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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27883900">The Endless Open Sea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/classroom_dust/pseuds/classroom_dust'>classroom_dust</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Character Development, Character Growth, Character Study, Death, Emotions, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Holy Grail War (Fate), Past Character Death, Post-Fate/Zero, Spoilers, Waver Velvet needs a hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:34:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27883900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/classroom_dust/pseuds/classroom_dust</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Waver Velvet mourned through the night.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Glen Mackenzie &amp; Martha Mackenzie &amp; Waver Velvet, Glen Mackenzie &amp; Waver Velvet, Iskandar | Rider &amp; Waver Velvet, Martha Mackenzie &amp; Waver Velvet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Endless Open Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, I know only like-- two people are gonna end up reading this fic but I wrote this to take a break from my main fandom and express my love and appreciation for Waver Velvet. I know canon Lord Ell Melloi II is like-- serious and emotionally constipated as hell but I just wanted to write a post Fate/Zero fic. K bye.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Waver Velvet mourned. He kneeled on that fateful bridge, and lamented. Lamented over nothing. Nothing was there, and nothing would ever be again. An empty void where a strong, full man, the one who he pledged his undying loyalty to, used to stand. He was trembling all over, and the tears streamed down like cascading waterfalls, while he couldn’t help but scrape his fingernails over the ground, trying to grasp anything that might be left as strangled sobs decided to leave him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it had all faded to dust, and he wasn’t even able to watch as the golden particles drifted aimlessly, farther and farther to the sky, just like that steadfast chariot that they used to wield together, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>had used to conquer. Nothing was left of the Rider class servant or the chariot, and nothing was left for him in the Holy Grail War. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was prepared for this to happen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, lying in bed at night, he was convinced it was inevitable, that he was the weakest, and that he’d have to go to bed again without the familiar static sound of his small television and boisterous laughter that had him yelling to quiet down at three A.M. in the morning. He was convinced it was inevitable that he’d have to clean up all the extra large clothing out of his room and stuff it into the closet, that littered chips would disappear from the floor permanently. That he’d disappear from their home eventually, and return to a place that he didn’t know what to call. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But other times, lying in bed at night, he was convinced that it was not so. That he had a strong companion to push through with, that he could come out triumphant in the end, that the rest of his life would be spent conquering the world, respected and admired with Rider at his side. With </span>
  <em>
    <span>Iskandar at his side</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That he, loyal to Rider, and Rider, loyal to him, would carry their friendship through all time, and that he wouldn’t feel so isolated and focused anymore, rather carefree and at peace. And then such a great passion would consume him, fill him with the sparks of fire that he wanted to ignite and use to win the Holy Grail in a great battle of flame and the result of all his hard work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, it had turned out to be that </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever this was </span>
  </em>
  <span>came to be the result of all his hard work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waver Velvet mourned through the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time passes, and Waver finds himself interested in different things. He might’ve been avoiding magic because of that night, but like hell if he cared. He turned on the video game that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been so excited about, and tried to stop pitiful tears from falling once again as the title theme played throughout the room that had been quiet for weeks. He had stopped watching the news after they announced the mysterious explosion that devoured the city of the final battleground. The final battleground that he should’ve been at, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>should’ve won at. Whether it was saber’s master or archer’s, he couldn’t care less anymore. The only important thing was that he wasn’t a part of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s gotten fairly good at the game. The controller is comfortable in his hand, and he can only imagine how much </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>would’ve had trouble playing it with hands so large. He might’ve even broken the controller. But instead of happily broken, the second controller was sitting on the ground next to him, in a space that felt devoid of life. He flicks his fingers over the buttons and joystick, watching as his army moves on to conquer further. It’s a pitiful excuse of the real thing, but seeing as </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>gone, this is probably the best he can do. The best he’ll ever do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mind flitters back to those words of reassurance and flattery that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>always used. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>always seemed to hold and carry himself with so much obnoxious confidence and self worth that it had spread to him and engulfed him like a flame. He was trying his best to cradle his hands around that flame, and keep it from dwindling out, but it felt like a cold winter wind was blowing fiercely, devouring what few sparks and flickers were left of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was cold in his room now. Not because of the occasional beginnings of snow, or the lack of a decent heater in this temporary home, but because of how it used to be. With that large presence of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was only natural that some heat would be lost from the missing body warmth. He’d often pull several blankets over him just to stop himself from shivering at night, but it never worked. Probably because it wasn’t the cold that caused him to shiver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waver Velvet finds himself absorbed in the video game, and absorbed in the history of Alexander the great. All distractions to keep him feeling warm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glen Mackenzie worries about Waver. He often brings a cup of steaming hot chocolate to his room and sits down to join or observe whatever he’s doing. It’s not the same as the rooftop, but he admits deep down that it’s nice to be with someone aside from his own thoughts. Martha Mackenzie doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but he’s sensed some emotional change in her as of late. She always tries to talk to him about what he’s been doing at the small round table, but he’s too busy staring at the empty chair where </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>used to sit to answer. And sometimes, when Glen Mackenzie is wearing a red flannel shirt, he sends a desperate glance to the color, wondering if maybe it was something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It isn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s going to have to wipe their memories again soon. He doesn’t want to, he wants to visit them and share hot chocolate and small warm meals around that table every year, like a real grandson, but that would be unfair. He’s been lying to them both this whole time, and although Glen’s figured it out, he knows Martha would be sad if he left. She won’t be sad if he erases both their memories. They’ll both live happily, not knowing that he existed in the first place. He’ll be gone, like dust, completely disappeared like </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> But in </span>
  <em>
    <span>that person’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>case, he still has to remember the servant and that gruesome night of doom they faced together. In fact, it feels like he’s the only one who does anymore. He wants to find another participant of the Grail War (</span>
  <em>
    <span>if any are even left.</span>
  </em>
  <span>) He wants to talk to them for hours about the pain and anguish he’s been feeling. He wants to talk to someone who remembers </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He doesn’t care if they don’t want to listen. But that’s all just a fruitless dream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glen Mackenzie offers to talk, but Waver spares him the pain of it. He doesn’t want to get too attached before he leaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waver Velvet couldn’t go through with it.  His mind tormented itself into deciding against another memory erasure spell, but it's been a while since then. The peaceful indoor life at the Mackensies’ place hasn’t ceased. He spends a lot of time thinking about his future. What does he do now? He has to continue with his magic career whether he likes it or not, because that’s the only thing that’s going to get him somewhere in this world. The holy grail was out of the picture, and so was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rider</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was rusty, tired, and out of practice with magic, but where else could he go? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rider’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>dream to see the ocean, blue and clear, and shining in the sun. He remembers the vision he had of fog clearing away to an endless blue sheet of waves, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rider </span>
  </em>
  <span>standing there, triumphant. Sometimes he wishes he could’ve traveled back in time just to achieve that dream with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rider</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But there were no second chances. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His viewpoint has shaped itself over the past two months. He’s been thinking a lot, on his own, and thinking about what </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rider </span>
  </em>
  <span>would’ve wanted him to do. How he should charge forward valiantly for his king, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and face everything head on, rather than stay cooped up in his room playing world conquering video games. He almost laughs at the thought. If he hadn’t kept pestering </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rider </span>
  </em>
  <span>to stir to action, that’s probably how the middle aged man would’ve ended up. An incel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One day, he decides to hell with it, and starts packing up his things. He packs up his magic books, his books on the history of Alexander the Great, and he throws some clothes in there as well. He throws that t-shirt </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rider </span>
  </em>
  <span>liked so much in with the rest of it, and let’s himself stare at the logo he’s seen so many times and remember where it came from. </span>
  <em>
    <span>From whom it came from. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His heart clenches in his chest, and tears brim in his eyes when he thinks about the events that transpired a few months ago. He wipes the tears away. Crying this much isn’t going to get him anywhere, he already cried plenty during his time with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rider </span>
  </em>
  <span>and… well, that hadn’t played out well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His suitcase bounces on the steps and Martha sends him a confused look when he arrives in their small, homey kitchen. He tells her and Glen that he’s going to travel for a while, and that he wants to see the ocean, so blue and wide. He wants to see the places that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rider </span>
  </em>
  <span>would’ve seen with his loyal followers. Glen smiles and later tells him that the large man who used to live in this house would’ve been proud of him. His old eyes are soft and prideful at the moment, and he knows that what Glen said is true. On his way out the door, Martha and Glen wave him goodbye, and he seizes up before pulling the both of them into a brief hug. He feels embarrassed at the notion, but it’s nice to be enveloped in human arms again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waver Velvet doesn’t think he’ll ever have the courage to make them forget about him, no matter how selfish that may be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waver views the open and endless sea, and it feels like a chain has unwrapped and uncoiled itself from his heart. He’s wearing a fuzzy red winter jacket with tan fur lining the hood that he saw in a store window on his travels, and pulls it tighter against him as a salty ocean breeze passes by and waves hello. Nothing could be better, more fresh than this solitary beachside and the freezing water tickling his shivering toes. He wonders how </span>
  <em>
    <span>Iskandar </span>
  </em>
  <span>would’ve felt standing here with him. It’s a bittersweet thought, but his heart only swells up at the thought of them standing here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A free, boundless smile creeps onto his face for the first time since </span>
  <em>
    <span>Iskandar </span>
  </em>
  <span>left, and Waver feels himself whisked away to the past, standing here with an army of millions, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Iskandar </span>
  </em>
  <span>at his side. He can practically hear </span>
  <em>
    <span>Iskandar </span>
  </em>
  <span>yelling in triumph, and his loyal followers crying out in pure joy with no abandon. He’ll cry out with them. A rush of bliss tingles through his very soul at the vivid scene. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands around on the beach for a couple more hours, and eventually takes the sorcery novels out of his suitcase and starts indulging in magic once more. He didn’t know how exhilarating it would feel to use his mana again, and he keeps practicing and practicing until he feels hot and heavy even in this freezing weather from the sweat. He can feel the rush of competition and fire that he felt during the Holy Grail War all come flooding back to him at once, and suddenly the confidence that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Iskandar </span>
  </em>
  <span>held has all been transferred to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ocean waves shiver and part at the impact of his spells, and Waver continues performing the all in a wistful dance as the open and endless sea joins and dances along with him. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>:')</p></blockquote></div></div>
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